Aftermath
by Boann
Summary: Following the events of Abduction, Alan and his family struggle to recover, only to find that healing will demand more than the world ever asked of the Thunderbirds.
1. bitter end

**Hello again everyone! **

**I promised you a sequel to "Abduction" and here it is! Once again, I'd like to encourage all of you who read this to review it, so that I may continue to strive toimprove myself as a writer.**

**A quick note for anyone who has not read my work before, this fic relies heavily on the events of "Abduction", so I highly recommend you read it before starting on this one.**

**Great to be back guys! Let me know what you think!**

**Love always, Boann xxx**

The tropical island paradise that was Tracy Island was a vision Alan Tracy welcomed. After being abducted by his school professor, Peter Corper, Alan never thought he would see his home again. The thought of the hundreds of miles of ocean separating him from the memories and reminders of his ordeal brought hope of liberation from the endless, horrifying recollections that plagued his weary mind.

He just wanted things to go back to normal. Back to the way things were. His family had constantly reassured him that they would get there, but for Alan, it was a painfully slow progress.

When he and his family had arrived back home two days ago, they had all immediately been reminded of how long it was going to be before peace and tranquillity returned. A reminder that Alan had personally provided by collapsing on the patio steps, moments after their arrival.

Alan cringed at the memory. He had been so relieved to get back home; it was as if he could just let the walls restraining his emotions crumble. Immediately his father and brothers had been at his side, holding him as he sobbed uncontrollably. He had been aware of the Kiranos and Hackenbackers standing on the patio above, the expressions on their faces revealing their discomfort. Neither Fermat nor Tintin had come to console him. They had merely stood there as if uncertain of what to do.

By now, Tintin and Fermat had visited him in the sickbay, voicing their relief and concern. Alan was grateful, but there was apart of him that withdrew from his friends. He knew he wasn't ready to talk to them about his ordeal just yet. He didn't know if he ever would be. In fact, he hadn't really talked to anybody about it. He'd clung to his family for comfort, but had avoided conversation with the ever-successful plea for sleep.

In actual fact, he no longer had desires to sleep. He couldn't see the point of it anymore. Not with the nightmares that promised to disturb every attempt he made to attain a peaceful slumber. He was also growing restless. Gordon had joked that it was a good sign; that he was returning to his old self. But Alan didn't smile at his brother's jokes anymore. He hardly ever spoke or made any expression. Occasional nodding and murmurs seemed to satisfy those around him, and for Alan, it was more than enough.

Physically, he was doing better. Virgil had kept a constant eye on him and gradually his progress had improved. Apart from the occasional cough, the pain in his chest had grown tolerable and, although his arm was still bound to a sling, the physical therapy he did every morning with Virgil was helping his shoulder. Despite this, Virgil and his father were adamant that he needed to remain in the sickbay for the rest of the week. Alan wasn't bothered, because quite frankly he wouldn't know what to do with himself if he left the sickbay.

He was an empty shell. The only emotion he knew was fear.

"Hey, Alan, you with me?" a gentle voice brought him back to reality.

He looked up to see John at his bedside. He frowned. Only a moment ago, Scott had been there.

John noticed his expression. "It's ok. Scott just left to go and get some breakfast. It's my turn to stay with. Is that alright?"

Alan nodded. So long as he wasn't alone, it was alright.

John gave a small smile, placing a hand on his arm. "How was your night? Did you get much sleep at all?"

Alan gave a sigh. "I got a few hours," he murmured.

John nodded. "That's good. Do you want to talk about it at all?"

It was the one question guaranteed to be asked by everyone who came to sit with him. But each time, Alan just shook his head wearily and replied, "No."

He couldn't ignore the disappointment on John's face as his brother nodded, grimly.

"I brought you something to eat," said John, reaching over to the bedside table, where a small tray sat. On it was a plate of toast. Just one slice, cut into quarters. Just like when he was sick as a boy.

John put the tray on the side of the bed, between him and Alan. Once again, Alan shook his head. "I'm not hungry," he mumbled, looking at his hands to avoid another look of disappointment.

John leant closer to him. "Alan, we've been over this. You can't starve yourself. Your body won't take that kind of treatment. You can't punish yourself like that," he said, softly.

Alan so badly wanted to try, for his family. But the thought of food made him sick. "It's hard," Alan whimpered, forbidding the tears to come.

John held his hand and gave his a comforting squeeze. "I know," he soothed. "I know."

John rubbed the back of his neck, gently. "Tell you what. Just try and eat one quarter, then I'll be satisfied. Deal?" John appealed.

Alan brought his head up to face his brother's blue eyes. Eyes that were so like his own. He nodded, slowly.

The process was unsteady, but he managed to get one piece down. And John, true to his word, didn't ask anymore of him. Instead he set the tray back on the table and settled Alan in. Alan lay his head back against the pillows propped under his shoulders and focused on keeping what he had eaten in his stomach. His eyes began to droop when suddenly someone was at his other side, a hand on his arm.

"Alan, are you awake?" asked Virgil's voice, softly.

"Leave him be. He needs what rest he can get," John implored, softly.

"I'm awake," Alan spoke up, grateful for an excuse not to sleep, although he knew what awaited him in return.

Virgil stood to his left, smiling, warmly. "Hey, sprout. It's that time of day again," he said, jokingly cheerful.

Alan didn't return the smile. _Physio. Great_.


	2. long road ahead

**Hello again everyone!**

**I know this story hasn't seen much action lately, but you'll have to be patient with me. I'm trying to make this fic as structured as possible, so that the end result isn't just a drone of angst that leads nowhere. (Let me know how I go!) Again, any reviews are greatly ppreciated and they encourage me to update quickly.**

**Anyway, here are the next two chapters, enjoy!**

**Love always, Boann**

Jeff Tracy had always been an early riser. There were certain routines that being an astronaut had required of him, and even now, he found it hard to ignore their pull. But despite this fact, he had been able to find little excuse for the poor amount of sleep he was getting.

His sons, or Kirano, who was always up with the sun, questioned why he was up at three or four in the morning, running through paperwork or examining charts as if in a panic. He tried to ignore them, but Scott, who was becoming increasingly wary of his father's bizarre new custom, was becoming difficult to avoid.

Jeff had tried to fend off his family and friend's incessant hassling with the excuse that he wanted to get the work out of the way. But in truth, the work he busied himself with were pointless scans and paperwork that was not required of him for another few months. The cold reality was that Jeff was on the verge of meltdown.

After rescuing Alan from Peter Corper barely two weeks ago, Jeff was constantly fretting and fussing over his youngest's welfare. Alan was so close, dangerously close, to closing in on himself, and for Jeff, that thought was unbearable. Although the physical scars were healing, Alan's emotional state was worrying and demanded a lot from the family.

Even with International Rescue regrettably non-operational (reminders compliments of the media), Jeff and his boys were growing weary. Over a twenty-four hour cycle, they had to take shifts to sit with Alan to prevent him from falling into a horrifying panic attack. Between the five of them, it meant only a few hours, but it left them each very little time to recover themselves.

The whole ordeal through which they'd struggled had not been discussed among them and Jeff's early rising was a prime example of how this was affecting them all.

Scott hit the gym for hours at a time. Virgil confined himself to the leisure room, his fingers pounding almost desperately on the keys of his piano. Gordon had spent more time under water than above it and John could only ever be seen running up and down the beach, pushing himself to the point of exhaustion.

Now, sat at his desk, with his head in his hands, Jeff realised that enough was enough. Although Alan desperately needed their help to recover, the rest of the family needed to recover in order to give him that support. Pushing away the chart he had been bent over for the past five hours, Jeff strode into the gym to meet his first son. As was expected, Scott was on the treadmill, going so fast, Jeff could barely see him move. Scott was glaring at the floor and sweat was trickling down his entire body. Taking advantage of his son's ignorance of his presence, Jeff turned the treadmill off.

Scott jumped as if had just been bitten, panting heavily. "Why did you do that?" he asked.

"I need to talk to you," Jeff replied, evenly.

"Ok, you talk, I run."

"No, Scott," Jeff said, ceasing his son's hand, which had been bent on restarting the machine. "Come with me."

Jeff walked out of the gym, giving his eldest son no opportunity to protest or question. He led Scott outside, where Gordon swam lap after lap in the pool.

"Gordon!" Jeff called.

Gordon resurfaced after his third call, wiping water from his eyes.

"Come out, dry yourself and come with me," Jeff instructed.

TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB

_I hate physio. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!_ Alan thought through gritted teeth.

"Ow!" he finally cried.

Virgil, who was firmly holding his arm and shoulder, relaxed a little. "Sorry, sprout. Just take a few seconds."

_Why does it still hurt so much when I do this?_ Alan wanted to ask, his bottom jaw beginning to tremble. _You said it would help, not make it worse!_

It was the same gruelling procedure every morning. He was told to raised his arm, then lower it, then rotate it backwards and then forwards. Virgil would hand him small weights and tell him to hold his arm up at different heights. Then he would hold a thick, looped piece of elastic and hold one end, instructing Alan to pull at the other until he was satisfied.

If Alan didn't pull hard enough, Virgil would continue to push him. But Alan knew that if he broke down, Virgil would relent. It was an easy method of escape that had served him well for the past few days. He knew Virgil would only pressure him so much.

"Ready?" His brother's voice prompted.

Clenching his teeth together again, Alan nodded. He would try again, but if it was the same, he was going to stop. Virgil's grip loosened around his arm and shoulder, in an attempt to encourage him to try. Alan tried once again to rotate his shoulder backwards, until a sharp spasm shot through his shoulder, causing him to cry out in shock and pain. He dropped his arm, breathing hard.

Virgil's hand was now back on his shoulder. "Come on, Alan. Try again," he said.

Alan now shook his head.

"Come on, Alan. It's ok. We'll help you," comforted John, who had been watching him cautiously. Alan wished he wouldn't.

Again, Alan replied by shaking his head. _Enough for today_.

"Alan. You need to do this. Your shoulder can't heal properly if you don't," Virgil told him, sternly.

"No," Alan mumbled.

"Alan…" Virgil pushed.

Alan's eyes filled with tears. "No," he said, a little louder, knowing it was all he needed.

Just as he predicted, Virgil nodded. Alan felt a great deal of self-satisfaction.

"Ok," sighed Virgil, defeated. "We'll see how we go tomorrow, okay?"

Alan didn't reply, knowing that tomorrow he would bail out again too. He allowed Virgil to redress his sling and settled himself back into bed, resting gratefully against the pillows.

He grabbed at John's hand, which lay on the bed next to him, and snuggled down, closing his eyes and trying to ignore the dull throb in his shoulder.

"Alan?" Virgil called into his ear.

_Bastard. Leave me alone. _

"I'm just going to check your temp and obs again, you know the drill," Virgil told him.

Alan couldn't care, he just wanted to ignore Virgil. He clung to John, who, thankfully, wasn't showing any signs of leaving.

Despite the fact that he knew what Virgil was about to do, he still jumped when the digital thermometer was placed into his ear. His eyes sprung open and he pulled away from John.

"Hey, it's ok. Listen to me," Virgil soothed him, leaving the thermometer where it was. Alan was annoyed, both at Virgil and at himself now.

What was wrong with him? It was little things like this that haunted him, reminded him that he still had a long way to go. Even when he expected someone to touch him, or to hear a voice, he violently withdrew as memories returned to taunt him. He stayed rock still until Virgil had finished, barely listening to Virgil's soft instructions for him to breathe deeply, or sit up slightly, before snuggling back down and pulling the blanket over himself.

He then attempted to retreat into sleep.

He was peacefully dozing until he heard a voice. A strange, unfamiliar one. Then another. And then another.

His eyes shot open and he gasped in fright at the first glimpse of another three people in the infirmary. Immediately, everyone's attention was turned towards him. Alan was terrified. He sat up and pushed himself back, up against the headboard, his hands clenching at the pillow. He couldn't control his breathing, nor could he stop shaking. He coughed, sending pain shooting through his chest. He moaned at the new source of pain as he continued to push himself back, pressing his back harder up against the headboard until it too became painful.

Someone grabbed his bicep and he let out a scream, pulling away, only to meet another figure. He pulled away, back to the first figure, when finally he heard a voice that was familiar.

"Alan, it's alright. Calm down. You're safe."

"DAD!" he screamed, as the hand returned to his bicep.

"Alan!"

A hand shot out, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look up, and only then did he see his father.

Alan swallowed the bile in his throat. "Dad?" he croaked

Jeff's hand stroked the side of his face, gently. "Yes, Alan. It's me. I'm here," he soothed, with a smile.

Alan looked around to see John and Virgil still with him. Virgil was on his other side, a deep frown creasing his forehead. Scott and Gordon stood at the end of his bed.

The three figures. They had been his family. He had freaked out over nothing. He felt so stupid.

He turned his head away, then looked down, so that they couldn't see the tears welling up in his eyes.

"Sorry…M' sorry," he mumbled, as a sob finally broke free.

His father gathered him in his arms. "Don't be sorry. Don't be sorry, Alan," he murmured in his ear.

Alan sagged in his father's arms, wanting nothing more than to disappear.

TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB

Jeff held Alan in warm embrace, softly speaking words of comfort to his trembling son. He let out a sigh. It looked like he would have to console his _other_ sons later.


	3. breaking dams

Virgil sighed as he and his father left the infirmary. Gordon had offered to stay with Alan, whom they had finally calmed down and was now asleep. For the moment.

"It's getting worse, Dad," he said, glumly, as the two retreated to Jeff's office. "I know this is going to take a while, but…"

Jeff ushered him on to a couch. "What's on your mind, son?"

Virgil sighed again, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "His physiotherapy is not going well at all. It starts off ok, and the first couple of times we managed to get through it. But now we don't even get halfway through. He pulls out and withdraws. I don't want to push him, but he's got to realise that his shoulder will only get worse if he doesn't do the exercises. I don't make him do them for entertainment, you know?"

Virgil let out a breath, feeling a weight being lifted.

Jeff rested an arm on the back of the couch, around Virgil's shoulders. "I know you want to help your brother and I am more than aware of the importance of the physio," he said. "But I think you also need to take a step back. Cut yourself some slack before you end up being the one needing treatment."

Virgil frowned, confused. "I can't slack off, Dad. Alan needs me. He can't do this on his own."

Jeff nodded. "No, he cant and neither can you," he replied, gently.

Virgil looked at his hands. "I just feel so helpless," he murmured. "I know I'm trying to help Alan," he added at the look on his father's face. "But I just feel like I'm running in circles. I don't know where to go from here. I have two choices. I can push him, which would probably result in him withdrawing further. Or I can let it go, but if I do that, he'll suffer physically." Virgil leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He rubbed his forehead again, suddenly exhausted.

Jeff nodded. "I know you feel responsible for Alan's health, Virgil. It's only natural that you should feel the need to do everything you possibly can to help him. But this is going to be a long road for all of us and we need to pace ourselves. Sprinting never won the cross country," he advised.

Virgil sighed yet again. "What can I do?"

"Our first goal is to get Alan back on his feet. We'll take it from there. If he refuses to do the physio, allow it for now. Just keep an eye on his condition and if it gets worse, then we'll have to apply some pressure," his father instructed.

Virgil nodded and made an attempt at a smile. "Thanks, Dad."

Jeff nodded his welcome. "Make sure you come and talk to me if you need to. Why don't you go and rest outside, it's a lovely day."

"I might do that," agreed Virgil, relieved at his father's suggestion. He rose from the couch and headed towards the door

"Oh, Virgil?"

Virgil stopped. "Yes?"

Jeff sat back on the couch. "Can you bring Gordon in here? I need to talk to him," he asked.

"Sure thing."

Virgil made his way through the house, retracing his steps back to the infirmary, where John sat beside Alan, holding his hand.

"Gordon?" Virgil whispered.

Gordon looked up, wearily.

"Dad wants to see you," Virgil told him, softly. "He's in his office."

"Any idea why?" asked Gordon, stretching his back muscles.

Virgil could sense Gordon's reluctance to leave. "Nope. You'd better go," he replied.

"Someone's has to stay with him," murmured Gordon, stiffly, not taking his eyes away from his younger brother's sleeping form.

Virgil moved to take Gordon's place beside Alan. "I'll stay," he offered.

After a moment's hesitation, Gordon nodded his consent and, after giving Alan's hand a squeeze, left the infirmary.

_So much for relaxing_, thought Virgil, as he slid into the unoccupied chair and grasped Alan's hand in his. He reached out with his right hand and gently felt Alan's forehead.

"You're still warm, sprout," he mumbled, tiredly. Yawning, Virgil rested his head on his brother's side and let his eyes flutter closed.

TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB

I should've guessed, mused Gordon as he entered his father's office. Jeff, who was sitting on a couch, motioned for him to take a seat.

Gordon obliged, though for a reason unknown even to himself, he was nervous.

"Dad," he started before Jeff had the chance to speak. "I know why I'm here and I appreciate your concern, but I just…" instead of finishing, he looked down at his hands, which were clasped tightly together in his lap.

"Gordon," Jeff began, his face full of concern. "This is taking its toll on each of us. I thought it was time to break the ice, that's all. I want you all to know that you can always talk. You can't keep it all-"

"Dad, I know!" Gordon exclaimed, much to his own surprise. "I know," he repeated, trying to remain calm. "I just…don't feel like talking right now, ok?"

He looked pleadingly up at his father, who put a hand on his forearm, squeezing it comfortingly.

"I know, son. It's alright. I understand," Jeff assured him softly. "But I'll be here when you feel ready, you know that, don't you?"

Gordon looked away, nodding. He rose from the couch, intent on leaving. What he would do after that, he didn't know. Suddenly he stopped, uncertain as to whether or not he wanted to talk. There was so much he wanted to say, so much pressure that he yearned to get off his chest. But he couldn't. It was a mixture of things. Embarrassment, stubbornness, stress. He needed to be strong, but at the same time, he didn't know what he was doing. If he swam anymore, he'd turn into a sponge, yet the very thought of sitting around doing nothing made his head spin. He shuddered as two hands held his shoulders. It was all it took for him to lose control. He rested his forehead against the cold wall, screwing his face up in an effort to keep his tears at bay. The hands ran down his arms, slowly turning him around to face his father. Gordon broke down, tears leaking from his eyes and choked sobs escaping him.

Jeff wrapped him in a warm embrace, to which Gordon responded, gripping the sleeves of his father's shirt.

"I don't know what to do anymore, Dad, I just don't!" he sobbed. "I can't seem to…I don't know what to do!"

"Shhhh," his father whispered into his ear. "It'll be alright. You just need to take this one step at a time. You need to heal as well."

"I don't want to lose him again! I couldn't handle it, Dad, I just couldn't!" Gordon continued to cry. Any feelings of embarrassment were gone, despite the fact he had not cried like this since he'd broken his back.

"Take it easy. He's safe. You're all safe. Nothing is going to happen to any of you, I promise," Jeff continued to hush him, gently.

Gordon buried his face into his father's shoulder until his sobs dissipated, leaving him exhausted and shaken. Slowly, he pulled away.

"I'm sorry, Dad," he mumbled.

Jeff wiped away his tears with his thumbs, holding his face. "Listen to me. You don't need to be sorry. We all need to let loose somehow. Trust me, things will get easier," he promised.

Gordon nodded, a smile masking his uncertainty. "Do you mind if I go and lie down?" he asked, sheepishly.

"Go," Jeff told him. "Get some rest."

Gratefully, Gordon retreated to his room, where he fell onto his bed almost instantly, the last of his tears trickling down his face.

TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB

Jeff sat down on his chair and sighed, resting his forehead in his hand. It had been difficult, and exhausting for all of them, but he was satisfied at last.

_Now I've got to find the other two_, he reminded himself

He was about to embark on his mission when a scream pierced the silence of the house. Recognising Alan's cries, Jeff rush full speed to the infirmary, where he found Virgil struggling with the panic-stricken teen.

Virgil looked up at him with wide eyes. "Dad! Help!"


	4. blood tears

**Hey again everyone!**

**Well, it's taking me a while, but I'm getting on top of this story, so hopefully updates will run a little more smoothly. I'm going very angsty with this fic, so please let me know whether or not this style is working for me or not. I really wan't this to be believable-I'm not writing a soapy folks!**

**Any feedback would be awesome!**

**Boann**

"Virgil, what is it? What's wrong?" asked Jeff, striding over to join his son.

"He started thrashing around. He's having a nightmare, but he's getting worse and I can't wake him!" Virgil exclaimed.

Jeff was shocked to see Virgil in such a panicked state. He immediately turned to his distraught youngest. "Alan? Alan, wake up, it's just a dream," he said, trying not to raise his voice. He was sure that if he did, he'd only contribute to Alan's distress.

"Alan, come on!" called Virgil, trying to hold Alan's flailing arms.

"No! No!" moaned Alan. "Please! Leave me alone! Please!"

It pained Jeff to hear his boy beg and to see tears running down his face. A thin sheen of sweat covered his son's body, which continued to thrash violently. Alan's breathing came in harsh gasps, as if he was struggling to breathe at all.

Alan let out a heart-wrenching sob. "Please! No! Leave them alone! Please! NO! PLEASE!"

Jeff cupped Alan's cheek in one hand and stroked his face with the other. "Alan, please, wake up," he begged, his own tears threatening to fall. "Alan!"

Alan showed no sign of responding. He was sobbing loudly and his struggling was not abating. Despite both Virgil and Jeff's efforts to restrain him, he managed to toss and turn under them, rolling into a foetal position. Virgil swiftly removed the pillows from under his brother's head to prevent him injuring himself as Alan's body continued its paroxysm. Virgil gripped Alan's forearm, only to receive a fist to the jaw.

"Virgil!" called Jeff, as his son stumbled backwards.

Virgil seemed to recover almost instantly. "I'm ok," he replied, though his shaking voice revealed his shock.

Despite their attempts, Jeff and Virgil could not wake Alan. Then suddenly, everything became a lot worse. Alan began coughing, struggling for breathe. It sounded like he was choking.

"Quick! Tilt his head down!" instructed Virgil.

Jeff did so and relied on Virgil's hold on Alan to allow him to run two fingers through the boys' mouth, checking for anything that could be blocking his airway. "Airway is clear," he told Virgil, who immediately said, "Get him onto his back and tilt his head up!"

Jeff struggled to roll Alan onto his back. With every movement, Alan fought back with a strength that, Jeff was relieved to observe, was fading. He tilted Alan's head back to allow Virgil to place an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth.

"Let's hope this works," said Virgil, holding the mask firmly whilst using his free hand to rub Alan's chest. "Come on, Alan!"

Alan continued to cough horribly, but his breathing became noticeably better. His struggles were weakening under Jeff and Virgil's hold.

"Alan, open your eyes for me," called Jeff, holding Alan's head in one hand and using his thumb to stroke his son's sweaty forehead. Alan's eyes fluttered but did not open. "That's it, Alan. Wake up," Jeff gently encouraged.

It seemed Alan's physical illness was taking its toll, obliterating any strength the youth had. Yet his sobs, however muffled by the mask, continued and tears still leaked from his eyes.

"Alan, Shhhh. It's alright," hushed Jeff. It seemed Alan was finally responding to his voice as his struggles finally ceased. Jeff and Virgil retained their hold on Alan, who was trembling violently.

"Alan, open your eyes," called Virgil.

"It's alright, Alan, your safe. Look at me, son," Jeff soothed.

Finally Alan's eyes slowly opened and focused on Jeff.

"Dad…" he whispered under the mask.

"I'm here, Shhhh," murmured Jeff, "Just relax."

Alan's eyes darted over to Virgil, who smiled fondly. "Welcome back kiddo. You had us scared for a while."

After a few seconds, Alan appeared to gain awareness of the mask on his face. With a frightened moan, he tried to pull away.

"No, Alan. Just relax. It's helping you breathe," Virgil told him.

Jeff stroked Alan's forehead, feeling a fresh heat radiate from it. "How do you feel, Alan?" he asked, gently

Alan's tear-filled eyes continued to dart around the room in confusion. Fearing another panic attack, Jeff spoke slowly and clearly to him. "You were having a nightmare. It took us a long time to wake you, so your body took quite a beating," he explained. Alan watched him, his eyes wavering in obvious anxiety. "You were struggling to breathe, so we had to give you oxygen, but it's ok now. Just relax."

Despite Jeff's attempt at reassurance, his son's eyes now leaked fresh tears.

"I'm sorry," he whimpered behind the mask. "I saw…I didn't mean…"

"It's not your fault, Alan. It's not your fault," Jeff said, rather firmly. "It will take time. Just try and relax. I'm not going anywhere."

"Here, sprout, this will make you more comfortable," offered Virgil, lifting Alan's head to place a pillow under it. "I'm just going to check your breathing, ok?" he said, donning a stethoscope and listening to Alan's chest.

Jeff did his best to untangle the blankets wrapped around Alan's legs and replace them over his body, tucking him in gently, but securely, as Virgil reassessed Alan's obs.

"Temp's back up. 102.3. Heart rate is high, no surprises there. Blood pressures a little worrying, and his chest sounds crackly. I'll leave him on the oxygen. Hopefully that'll help. Right now, he really needs to rest," he said. The middle Tracy released a sigh, obviously exhausted. "Alan," he called, softly, waiting until Alan was looking at him. "You need to get some sleep, ok?"

Alan immediately began to protest, whimpering incomprehensibly. Virgil put a reassuring hand on his arm. "I know it's the last thing you want to do, but trust me when I tell it's what you need more than anything else," he told him.

Alan screwed up his eyes, his tears returning as he weakly shook his head in refusal. Jeff held his son's hand. "I'll stay with you. I'll wake you up if you have another nightmare," he promised.

Alan returned the grip on his hand, but did not close his eyes.

Jeff looked up at Virgil. "Go and get some rest," he instructed.

Virgil's reluctance was clear, but his weariness was just as evident. "Call me if you anything," he whispered.

Once Virgil had gone, Jeff returned his attention to Alan, whose trembling had returned. "Hey," Jeff soothed, once again gaining his son's attention. "It's ok. Calm down. Shhhh."

Alan's tremors lessened, but still he did not close his eyes. Jeff lifted himself on to the bed, lying on his side and gathered Alan in his arms. Alan nuzzled into his chest as Jeff pulled the blanket around his son's shivering body. He held Alan close, listening to his fresh, exhausted sobs.

Jeff knew he had to be patient. Things would improve over time.

Still, Alan's episode had frightened him. He made a mental note to contact Steve Crain when he had the chance. They were going to need some help. For Jeff had a feeling this episode would be the first of many to come.


	5. battered shields

**Happy Halloween Everyone!**

**I've noticed that Aftermath isn't getting many reviews, which is really sad! ;( Please review! I really want to know how you think this story is going. After all, without reviews, I can't continue this story! Don't be afraid to send me constructive criticism, your opinion of the story itself...even any plot tips! LOL Anything would be greatly appreciated!**

**Thanks guys, love always, Boann**

Scott Tracy was a brother. He was also a father, or at least he had been for a part in his life. After the tragic death of their mother, Scott had taken it upon himself to fill the shoes of his parents. With Lucille gone and Jeff almost invisible due to depression, Scott had been the sole carer of his brothers. Even today, Scott felt responsible for all of them. He would do anything for them and he would put his own life on the line to protect them. He would always be there at the first sign of danger. Like Thunderbird 1 to a rescue scene, Scott would always be there first, ready to support whomever it was calling for help.

But not this time.

This time, Scott Tracy: brother, father, was sitting against the door of his room, head in his hands, trying to retain what sanity he had left. He had heard Alan's cries. He had rushed to the infirmary and stood at the door, watching his baby brother struggle and scream. At that moment, something had snapped, and Scott had fled, trapping himself in his room, trying to shut out the sounds and images.

He'd failed to keep the tears at bay. He'd failed to hide the pain. But worst of all; he'd failed his brother.

Scott looked up, clenching his hands in a vain attempt to stop them from shaking. Why had he run? He had never run from anything in his life. Why did he run now; when Alan needed him the most?

He sat in horror at what he had just done, what he had just failed to do. After Corper had died, Scott had made a vow never to let anything happen to his baby brother again. But now, looking back, he realised that he could never keep such a promise. He could offer a hand for Alan to hold, a shoulder to cry on, strength to lean on, but he could never keep him safe. It was all too much to live up to. He couldn't even go into the infirmary, for God's sake!

Fear, confusion and self doubt were all circling in his head, attacking him from the inside. He was looked up to by so many, how could he ask for help and still hold his head high? It sounded pigheaded of him, but it was the truth. _How can I be strong for my family, when I can't even pick myself up off the floor?_

With that thought, Scott's last defences crumbled. Wrapping his arms around himself, he let his head fall and sobbed.

Mum…I failed you…I'm so sorry… 

TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB

"Dad, I'm so sorry," Alan tearfully moaned.

Wrapped in his father's arms, he trembled, unable to find warmth. His shoulder, which had managed to escape the attention of both Jeff and Virgil, throbbed relentlessly.

Many hours had passed and the infirmary had changed. The sun was setting, sending orange and pink streams of light through the window. It had felt like a month had passed; yet it had only been a day.

Alan shifted in his father's embrace. No movement or reply from Jeff told him that his father was asleep. Alan couldn't blame him. He knew his problems were taking their toll on his family.

He felt so confused. One moment, he couldn't care less. He wanted to be left in peace. He was willing to give up and ignore everything. The next moment, he felt so ashamed. He knew he was being difficult, and the fact that he was beginning to be difficult on purpose made him want to slap himself for being so selfish. He didn't know what to do. He wanted this to end and he knew he could do it. But he couldn't fight this battle alone. He needed his family and friends. But he didn't want to be a burden any longer.

Alan shifted again, trying to make himself as uncomfortable as possible. He was fighting the urges of sleep. He didn't want to see Corper again, nor did he want to hear his voice. The very thought of seeing him, hearing him, sent chills down his spine.

No, he couldn't fall asleep. He wouldn't fall asleep. Yet the temptation was growing stronger, tugging at the back of his eyes. Alan knew he wouldn't be able to fight it much longer. He had to get up. Slowly and carefully, Alan pulled himself from his father's arms. Not wanting his father to wake and find him gone, he placed a pillow where his body had been. Alan perched on the edge of the bed, trying to ignore his body's protests. It took a few seconds for the dizziness to pass, but finally, he stood up. His first steps were unsteady, as the blood rushed to his legs, but it felt good. He hadn't been out of bed in over two weeks, and for a moment, he thought he had forgotten how to walk.

He finally reached the infirmary door, but paused. If the sun had only just set, people would still be up and about. The last thing he needed was to be found and marched back to bed like a small child. He needed to be careful. Not really aware of where he was going, he followed his feet. He walked slowly down the hall to the bedrooms. The image felt alien. Standing in the hallway, seeing the doors, all labelled with the occupants name and decorated with the occasional picture, all according to each person's interests or, in John's case (in which a picture of a ballerina was glued to the nametag), the result of one of Gordon's pranks.

The hallway was eerily silent, yet Alan had the feeling that he was not alone. He walked a little further, pausing when he heard a soft sound. After further investigation, Alan discovered that the sound was emanating from Scott's room. Alan held an ear up against the door, listening intently. Yes, it was definitely coming from inside. Turning the doorknob, he slowly opened the door.

What he saw broke his heart. His eldest brother was huddled on his bed, which was uncharacteristically unmade. Alan's stomach churned as he realised what the sound he heard truly was. It was the sound of his brother sobbing. Alan had only ever seen his brother cry three times. Once when he was little, right after their mum's death, once when Gordon was in hospital after the hydrofoil accident, and once when Scott had been in a car crash and dislocated his leg from his hip socket.

Alan stood in the doorway, unable to move. He had a feeling that he was the reason behind his brother's tears, and it crushed him. Scott had looked after him his whole life. Scott had always been there for him. Most of Alan's earliest memories from the time shortly after his mother's death were of Scott teaching him how to read, how to ride a bike or bandaging his scraped knees. Everything he should remember his father doing, but never could. Scott had been his father figure during the early years of his life, and although as a teenager, he had tried his best to show Scott that he was strong and no longer in need of his help, right now Alan wanted nothing more than to show his big brother how precious he was to him.

"_Daddy!"_

_Alan ran through the house as fast as his small legs could carry him. He stopped when he reach the door of his father's bedroom. As always, the door was shut. His daddy didn't come out much. John had told him that it was because he was talking to Mummy, but Alan didn't see her much either._

_It was strange. Whenever he asked where she was, nobody would explain. They just said, "She's in heaven, Alan." Alan was never satisfied. He wanted to know where heaven was so he could go and see his mother._

_Quietly, Alan opened his father's door and peered inside. He saw his father sitting on the edge of his bed, his back turned and his head in his hands._

_"Daddy!" he cried, excitedly, running inside and jumping onto the bed next to his father. Jeff didn't move._

_"Guess what, Daddy!" Alan exclaimed, tugging his father's arm. "I learned how to swim underwater and I'm not afraid!"_

_Upon gaining no response from his father, Alan tugged harder. "Daddy?"_

_His smile faltered as Jeff continued to ignore him._

_"Alan?"_

_Alan spun around to see Scott standing in the doorway, a look of horror on his face. He strode over to the bed. "Alan, come on, come with me," he instructed, holding out his hand. Alan took it and ran after Scott, who pulled him out of the room, closing the door behind them._

_"What's wrong, Scotty?" asked Alan, as Scott picked him up and carried him down the stairs and into the living room, plonking him on the couch._

_"Alan, you know you're not allowed to go in there. I told you not to," Scott scolded._

_"I know," said Alan, dismally. "But I wanted to tell Daddy what I did today."_

_Scott's scowl faltered and he smiled. But Alan thought he still looked sad. "What did you do today?" he asked, sitting beside him._

_"I learned to go underwater," grinned Alan, proudly._

_"That's great!" Scott smiled sincerely. "Well done. I'm proud of you."_

_Alan smiled. "When can I tell Daddy?" he asked._

_"Maybe later, Alan," Scott replied. "Why don't you get your book and we'll do your reading for school?"_

_"Ok," said Alan, jumping up from the couch and racing to get his book_.

The memory faded as quickly as it had come, but as soon as it had gone, Alan's mind was made up. Closing the door behind him, he walked unsteadily, but determined over to where his brother lay, his bare feet making no sound on the carpeted floor.

Gently, he eased himself on to the bed opposite Scott, who had yet to realise his brother was there. Shuffling closer, Alan slipped an arm around Scott's waist, then rested a hand on the top of his brother's head and stroked his hair, just like Scott would do to him. Scott suddenly turned to see who was there, and when he saw Alan, his puffy, red eyes widened.

"Alan?" he breathed, rolling over and holding Alan by the shoulder. "What are you doing? You're supposed to be in bed!" he hissed.

"You looked like you could use some company," murmured Alan, not moving.

Scott held his gaze briefly, as if contemplating the offer. "What are you talking about? I'm fine," he said, sharply.

Alan gave him a small smile. "You were always a bad liar," he remarked.

Scott looked at him as if confused and worried, before resting an arm on Alan's hip. "We should get you back," he said with a sigh.

"I'm not going anywhere," Alan said, shaking his head and resting on his side to show his resolve on the matter.

"But Alan…"

"Scott, please," Alan pleaded, forbidding himself to cry. "I'm the reason you're so upset. At least let me try and help."

Scott closed his eyes briefly. Alan knew he was trying to hide the tears welling in them. "Alan, it's not because of you. It's me," he murmured.

"Don't be stupid," said Alan, holding his brother's wrist. "I've been a pain in the arse."

"Alan, you haven't been a pain. It's me. I'm just…being stupid. Selfish," Scott told him, gripping the hand around his wrist.

Alan frowned, shocked. "How have you ever, in your life, been selfish?" he gasped.

"I ran," replied Scott, resting his head on the pillow. "I could have helped you earlier today and I ran. I should have been there. I should have been there from the start."

Alan was forcing his own tears back by now. "You were always there for me," he said. "I just haven't appreciated it lately."

Alan moved closer so that his Scott's foreheads were touching. "I'll always need you. And I'll always be there for you too," he told him.

Scott's face screwed up as his tears finally escaped. His hand held Alan's cheek and before long, both brothers were weeping in each other's arms.


	6. boys and men

**Hey guys!**

**It's good to be back after so long. Hopefully this fic hasn't been forgotten completely after all this time. This story is a lot more difficult than any other Iv'e written because it relies on the realism of emotions rather than action, so bear with me and let me know what you think!**

**Boann xxx**

The room was dark. The air was cool. The breeze floating in through the open balcony doors brought goose bumps to his skin. He felt woozy and weak, and his shoulder ached.

But Alan had felt better than he had for a long time. And what made him even happier was that for the first time, he had woken up remembering where he was. He remembered going to sleep next to Scott and he felt safe knowing that he was not alone. He wasn't in the stale infirmary, a place of pain and frightening unpredictability. Nobody was poking and prodding him from every angle, or hovering around him asking annoying questions. Here he could just relax and sleep.

Or at least he thought.

He was moving. His head, neck, back, torso, arms and legs were being supported as they gently ascended. For a moment he thought he was floating on clouds, until he opened his eyes. Scott's silhouette was before him and someone was behind him. They were trying to move him off the bed.

Alan gave a small moan, unwilling to be moved. He was fully aware of his destination.

"It's ok, Alan. Just relax." The voice he recognised as his father's. Jeff sounded rather breathless, like he had been running or been through a state of panic. Alan guessed his father had awoken to find him gone and despite his annoyance, he felt guilty.

But that wouldn't stop him from resisting his transfer back to the infirmary. Finally he found his voice. "No…Dad, leave me. I'm fine," he said softly as he was slowly sat up.

"It's ok, sprout. We've got you," murmured Scott. He probably thought Alan was incoherent or delirious.

"No," protested Alan. "Seriously, I'm awake. I'm fine." He tried to ignore the increased feeling of nausea as his father and brother continued to manoeuvre him off Scott's bed. "Stop it!" he finally exclaimed, his frustration only intensified at not being listened to.

"Alan, listen to me," said Jeff. Although it was dark, Alan could still see his father bending over him with one arm around his shoulders and another on his arm. "You're sick. You need to be taken back to the infirmary."

Alan only grew even more annoyed at the tone of Jeff's voice. The kind one used when talking to a child or a mental patient. "Dad, seriously. I don't want to go. I was fine here. Why did you wake me up?" His own voice faltered as he became more distressed.

Scott, who had sat on the right, stroked his hair tenderly, the way he used to after Alan had woken from a nightmare as a child. "Alan. It's ok. It's my fault. I shouldn't have let you stay in the first place. I'm sorry," he said.

Alan looked at him. "It was me who decided to come in, Scott. You were upset. I want to stay."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Jeff's head jerk. Taking advantage of his father's distraction, Alan tried to sink back down onto the bed. Jeff held him steady, before, surprisingly, allowing him to have his way. Alan curled up on his side and snuggled back down. He felt a blanket being placed over him gently, before someone ran a hand over his forehead. He fell asleep before he could tell Scott to stay.

TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB

Jeff Tracy had come close to experiencing a heart attack many times during his life. With five boys, it was inevitable. Still he had not been prepared for the close encounter he'd just received as a result of his youngest's decision to wonder from his bed. Jeff had awoken to find himself alone and had immediately begun a rampage through the house. Many of the island's civilians had gone to bed, and he hadn't disturbed those who had yet to retire. He executed a search himself rather than raise unnecessary alarm.

The boys' rooms had been his first targets, for a reason he had yet to understand, and it wasn't long before he found Alan curled up in his Scott's arms. Immediately Jeff had woken a rather disorientated Scott and the two of them had busied themselves with transferring Alan to the infirmary.

But perhaps the biggest surprise of all had been the fact that Alan had not screamed or become violent, however much he had protested. Although Jeff had been frustrated by the whole situation, he had never felt such hope for his son. Alan had obviously woken coherent enough to recognise his father and brother and remember where he was. It was the greatest progress they'd seen since arriving back home. For that reason, Jeff had accepted his son's wishes and allowed him to remain in Scott's room.

After it appeared that Alan had fallen asleep, Jeff pulled Scott into the hallway. However nervous he was about leaving Alan unsupervised, his obvious exhaustion promised that he would sleep long enough for Jeff to talk to his eldest son. Silently, he led Scott into the deserted kitchen, indicating for him to sit at the kitchen bench. Scott obeyed, looking tired and dishevelled. Jeff began to make them both some hot chocolate.

"Two things," he said, rather more harshly than he had intended as he got out a saucepan and began boiling some milk. "My first question is: what the hell were you thinking allowing Alan to remain out of the infirmary; a place where he can be monitored?"

Jeff watched Scott cringe at his sharp tone. "However, given the change you must have noticed in Alan, I'm not going to insist on you answering that question," he said, lowering his voice.

Scott's expression was a combination of hope and disbelief.

Jeff finished making their drinks and sat opposite his son, folding his arms and leaning against the bench top. "My second question is: why did Alan come to you in the first place? This one I need you to answer, son."

Scott sighed. "I'm sorry Dad. I let you down. I let Alan down. I let myself down and I let my family down."

Jeff's expression turned to one of horror. "What are talking about?" he asked in disbelief.

Scott's eyes brimmed with tears, a sight rarely seen. "I could have…I should have stopped ended it sooner. I should have listened to him, I should have been more careful. If I hadn't been so stupid, Corper wouldn't have been able to get away a second time…"

"Stop." The order sounded more like a plea. Jeff's hands gripped his mug. "Please, Scott. Stop this. We all could have and should have done a lot of things to help the situation, but we didn't. What I'm trying to get you and your brothers to understand is that in order to move on and heal together, we need to acknowledge everything we did and failed to do is in the past. If we keep mulling it over and sinking into states of regret and self pity, it will only get worse."

Scott looked down at his own mug. After a short while, he looked up again, avoiding Jeff's gaze. "I just think back to that day we found him. I carried him in my arms…he was so light, yet so limp. I carried him straight into Corper's trap," his eyes drifted over to Jeff. "Dad, what Alan saw…any adult would struggle with the memories of watching someone commit suicide, but Alan…he's just kid, Dad. He should never have had to go through that. You know, all my life I've promised myself that I'd keep Alan safe; that I'd keep all of them safe. All my life I'd do my best to protect them, I'd take care of them when they were sick and now I just feel like…I can't do it, Dad."

Jeff nodded. "Scott, I've never be comfortable admitting this to myself but, after your mother died, for a long time you were more of a father than I was. You didn't question, you didn't complain, you just morphed into what I was supposed to be. And from that day I have never doubted you or your ability to keep your brothers safe," he said, earnestly.

Tears now dripped down Scott's face. "After everything that has happened…you don't doubt me…even now?"

Jeff held his son's gaze. "I will never doubt you," he replied.

For a moment Scott smiled, but his smile quickly turned into a sob and he held his head in one hand. Jeff moved to his son's side and enveloped him in a hug, which Scott returned.

It was the first time he'd held his son since he had turned from a boy into a man all those years ago.


	7. rebuilding

The next time Alan woke, he was still comfortably nestled in Scott's bed. But it wasn't Scott sitting at the bed's side. It was Virgil. Again, Alan's anxiety was lifted by the fact that he wasn't suffering confusion or panic. But he still couldn't banish the nervousness or the guilt. Especially when it came to Virgil.

Virgil dipped his head slightly to look at him. "Hey," he greeted softly. "How are you feeling?"

Alan's initial reaction was to frown and sink into a state of self-pity at the return of annoying questions. But instead he shifted his head slightly to look up at his brother. "Tired, and my shoulder still hurts," he replied, uncomfortably.

Instead of fussing like he normally did, Virgil merely nodded. This was enough for Alan to know that Virgil was troubled.

Taking a small breath, Alan asked, "Are you mad at me?"

For a brief moment a look of surprise crossed Virgil's face. But it was quickly replaced by one of solemness. "I'm not mad Alan. I'm…" Virgil looked at Alan's confused expression before continuing. "I'm a lot of things at the moment. But more than anything I'm worried. I know that things are really difficult at the moment, especially for you. But you must understand that nothing will get easier until some changes are made. I want to help you but I can't help you if you don't help me."

Alan sank back into the pillows, wanting now to be left alone. He knew Virgil was talking about his physio, among other things he had yet to physically accomplish. But it was all… "So hard," he mumbled.

Virgil reached out and took Alan's hand and Alan quickly withdrew in surprise and habitual response. Ashamed, he tentatively reached out and grasped his brother's fingers, which he squeezed in silent apology. Virgil returned his grip, saying, "I know it's hard. I'm sorry if I've been more of a drill sergeant than a brother lately. But just think, if you can conquer the physical pain, the emotional pain will soon be over too."

Conflicting thoughts swirled inside Alan's head, but in the end he nodded, giving Virgil's fingers another squeeze. "You promise?" he asked in a quiet voice.

Virgil nodded, taking Alan's hand fully. "Yeah, I promise."

Again, Alan inhaled sharply and gave a small nod. Slowly, with Virgil's help, he sat up. "Can we start now?"

TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB

Over the next week, things finally began to show improvement. Although, much to his dismay, Alan had been moved back to the infirmary to be kept monitored, he found a new resolve to get through his physiotherapy. It hurt like hell at first, sometimes reducing him to tears. But at the end of the day, he was satisfied with his efforts. Virgil stayed with him every step of the way and more than often one of his brothers would be there to give him additional support. Slowly, Alan regained his appetite and no longer struggled to eat small meals. His strength grew, his coughing ceased and his lungs were almost completely clear.

Alan's improvement encouraged the family to spend more time together. They would sit down to talk and occasionally, a laugh was heard. Alan was finding it difficult to talk to his family about his ordeal, particularly when they talked as a group. But in one-on-one conversations, he was less timid to share his memories and feelings. Although he didn't say much, it was encouraging to hear him talk nonetheless.

Impressed by Alan's progress, Jeff had allowed Alan to stay in his own room rather than the infirmary, much to Alan's delight. By the time one week had passed since his talk with Virgil, Alan felt himself smile for the first time since his abduction.

It was going slowly, but everyone was convinced that things could only get better. But something still bothered Alan. Although Fermat and Tintin had occasionally joined him to talk, he still felt he owed Fermat. After all, the boy genius had not only been there for Alan, he'd also saved his family from Corper's booby trap at the apartment building. Alan wasn't convinced he was ready to talk with Fermat alone, but he knew he had to do it soon before it was too late.

TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB

He wasn't supposed to be out of bed, but Alan had never been afraid to bend the rules. It heartened him that he didn't struggle to walk anymore, although there was a slight shakiness he had yet to be rid of. Everyone was outside enjoying the warm afternoon sun, but Alan was hoping that one of the island's inhabitants was not among them. Cautiously he walked down the hall to Fermat's room. The door was slightly ajar, and Alan's spirits lifted when he saw Fermat pottering about the room. Tentatively he knocked on the door and stepped inside.

Fermat stopped at looked at him. "Hey Alan," he said.

"Hey Fermat," Alan replied.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" asked Fermat.

Alan looked at his feet. "I guess I needed to talk to you for a minute…alone."

Fermat looked uncertain and for a brief, terrifying moment, Alan thought his friend was going to refuse. But Fermat nodded and gestured towards the bed. "Do you want to sit down?"

Alan gave a small smile of relief and took a seat next to Fermat.

"What did you want to t…t…discuss?" asked Fermat.

Alan didn't miss his friend's stutter; a sign Fermat was anxious. He was glad he wasn't the only one. Although Fermat had been to see Alan many times over the past week, he had always seemed distracted and unusually quiet. Alan suspected this was his doing.

"I umm…I guess, now that things are starting to get a little better, it's time a told you something. I'm sorry I got angry with you…all those weeks ago, whenever you asked if something was wrong. You were just looking out for me, but I was just so…" Alan struggled with his words. "I'm just…I'm sorry. I really…I really am."

For a moment Fermat was silent. Then he smiled. "I thought it was me who had the s…s…stutter," he said.

Alan felt a rush of relief, knowing his apology had been accepted.

"It's good to see you smiling again," said Fermat, quietly.

Alan nodded. "It feels good too."

"I want to show you something," said Fermat, moving over to his computer. "I've been working on an edible transmitter for emergencies. When you got…while we were looking for you, we tried f…f…tracking you using your watch. But when it was removed, we had no way of finding you. This transmitter can be taken if the watches get damaged or r…r…taken. It'll last up to twenty four hours."

Alan was stunned. "Fermat, you're a genius," he said.

Fermat looked pleased. "I've been working on it for a couple of weeks now. However I haven't yet f…f…perfected them. They're not responding so well to tests. I've yet to perfect a seal that will s…s…prevent methods of normal digestion from disabling the device. So far tests have proved c…c…disastrous."

Alan frowned. "What do you mean, disastrous?" he asked.

"Maybe it'd be better if I d…d…showed you," suggested Fermat, handing him a pair of eye goggles.

Slightly nervous at what his friend was about to attempt, Alan pulled them on. Fermat placed a transmitter into a reinforced box. Taking a syringe, he withdrew some liquid from a glass phial and emptied it over the transmitter, closing the box quickly. At first nothing happened, but suddenly there was a loud bang! The sound was slightly muffled by the box, but it was still loud enough to imitate the sound of a gunshot. Alan pulled his goggles off as images swarmed his mind.

_After everything that's happened, please don't…_

_So this was it. This was how it would end. Corper's hot breath against his face chilled him. He was going to die. He'd never see his family again. _

_Dad, I'm so sorry! _

_Tears ran down his face and his body trembled not with fever, but fear. _

"_Together Alan, together," Corper told him, caressing his cheek_.

_Alan clenched his eyes shut, waiting for the sound that would seal his fate._

_Corper whispered in his ear. "I love you, my son."_

_Alan's eyes opened and he looked at Corper, trying to understand. What are you waiting for, he begged silently. Please just…_

_But then he saw something in Corper's eyes. Something he would never forget. No anger, nor hatred, just a look of triumph; and insanity. Corper raised the barrel to his own head, and Alan could do nothing to stop what he realised what was about to happen._

"_No!" he cried out hoarsely._

The gunshot sounded and Alan clenched his eyes shut and turned his head away just as hot, crimson blood splattered against his face. Corper's body fell onto him with a sickening thud. Alan kept his eyes clenched shut and the entire world threatened to collapse onto him. He couldn't bring himself to look. He shook violently and could not cease the sobs that escaped him.

Suddenly his father's voice called to him through the spiralling abyss.

Dad! He didn't have the strength to cry out loud. Dad, please help me!

Fermat's voice brought him out of his memories. "So you can see just how violently the transmitter reacts when it comes in contact to any form of acidic substance," he said.

Alan said nothing, he couldn't even move. Fermat, obviously unaware of what had just occurred, looked at him expectantly. "You see what I mean by destructive?" he asked, with a smile.

Alan nodded slowly, not even looking at his friend. He jumped when Fermat touched his arm. "Alan, are you okay?"

Alan realised he was trembling but he tried to hide it. His inner conscience was screaming to him to run and hide. It's all too much! I can't do this! Please someone kill me! I can't be helped!

But his mind was telling him not to allow himself to be taken over by fear. Breathe. You can't let go now, you just can't. You've worked so hard. You've come so far. Things were just starting to be normal again. Just BREATHE!

Alan inhaled shakily, throwing the goggles away. "I'm really tired, I'm going to bed," he said quickly, before walking swiftly out of the room. He didn't give Fermat time to ask him more questions, because he didn't trust himself to keep his cool. He couldn't let his family down, he just couldn't. They'd worked so hard to help him and he wouldn't betray them by hiding like a coward. But he wanted so much to scream, to cry out for his father and collapse on the spot. It wasn't until his father's arms were around that he realised he'd done just that.

"Alan! Alan, please! It's okay. Tell me what's wrong. Alan?" The fear in his father's voice only terrified him more.

His only response was to shake his head, trying to make his father understand that he couldn't speak. He could do nothing but sob and cling to Jeff's shirt and Jeff wrapped his arms around him and gently rocked him.

**Phew! How many of you saw that coming? Please don't be shy! Go ahead and click the 'magic button'. Thankyou all so much for your warm welcomes and comments on the last chapter. I'm glad you think I'm achieving realism. If you disagree, review review review!!!**

**Boann**


	8. regression

It was early the next morning when Steve Crain arrived on Tracy Island. John hadn't seen Steve in a long time, but then, his occupation didn't accommodate much of a social life these days. But even at the chance of seeing the family friend, John would have sold his soul to be up in space now. Back to normality of some kind.

Woken from sleep by the sound of engines, he bent over the balcony of his room from where he saw Steve's jet come in to land. Despite his relief to see that Steve had arrived, he could not find the energy to show it. His pale blue eyes were glassy, a faint trace of a beard could be seen on his face and his platinum hair was a mess. He would kill to hear Gordon joke about his hair again. He would kill for a decent night's rest. He would kill to understand.

The past few days had been hell. But at least in hell, _you knew why you were there_.

Everything had been going so well. For a moment they had been given hope that they would be a family again. Then everything had been shattered. Their brother's agonised scream had sent them all careening into the hall where he lay, curled up in a foetal position, sobbing. Jeff had rushed to Alan's side, hugging the boy. John and the others had simply stood there, unable to comprehend, unable to understand or react to what had happened. They were still confused, at a loss for answers. Jeff had ordered Scott and Virgil to help him get Alan to the infirmary whilst John contacted Steve, leaving the others to comfort a shaking Fermat. Apparently, he and Alan had only just been talking. Even the boy genius didn't understand.

Alan had been inconsolable. He didn't speak, he only screamed and sobbed until he sank into a stupor, refusing to sleep or eat. Once or twice he had been forced into unconsciousness by his exhausted body, only to awake thrashing and screaming a few minutes later. He was never left alone, not even for a second. Despite the terror of watching their youngest sibling sink into a state of insanity, the brothers kept a steadfast watch, barely leaving to eat and sleep. Whatever the case, they never left Alan alone. Alan himself seemed to be oblivious to their presence, though he would always cling onto one of them as if he was clinging onto his very mind, refusing to let go and noisily protesting if he was deprived of the touch.

Jeff had been almost as bad as Alan. He barely spoke, only ate what his son's forced into him, and never slept. He remained beside Alan, or, for hours at a time, disappeared to his room. Once, upon entering to bring his father some coffee, John found his father sitting on the floor by his bed. Around him, strewn hastily it appeared, were photos. Dozens of them. Old family photos thought lost, others copies of the ones that stood in frames around the house. Without a word, John had sat beside his father and held his hand. John knew that Jeff had been looking for some reassurance that he still had a family. He knew the man's mentality was on the edge of a knife. And that terrified him.

John sighed. Now that he had gained some form of rest, he returned to the infirmary, where his brothers were maintaining their guard over Alan. Well, their attempted guard, at least. Scott was in a chair pulled up close to the bed, his head resting on one arm and the other lost under Alan's body. Gordon was curled up like a cat at the end of the bed, his arm resting over Alan's legs protectively. The only one who was remotely awake was Virgil, who was pacing around the room, unnecessarily straightening bedcovers and rearranging shelves. Normally, John would have put a stop to this frantic behaviour, but he knew he brother was trying to deal with the situation his way, and so, he did nothing. Silently, he strode to where his eldest brother was and shook him awake. His brother was reluctant to move. "Scott, get up," hissed John, so as not to wake the others.

"What? What's wrong?" asked Scot wearily, instinctively looking over at Alan

"Go to your bed, I'll take over," John told him.

Normally, Scott would have protested, but things weren't normal. "M'kay, but make sure-"

"I'll let you know if anything happens," John promised.

Scott nodded, satisfied. The two brothers manoeuvred themselves into position for the task they had to complete. "You ready?" asked John.

Scott nodded and slowly, they worked on changing places. Alan's reaction at Scott's arm being pulled away was instantaneous. His scream pulled Gordon from his slumber and caused Virgil to bolt to the bed to help. Gordon's arm around his brother's legs became tight in an attempt to lessen the ferocity of Alan's thrashing as Scott pulled away and John wrapped his arm around the youngest Tracy. It was as pathetic to perform and as horrid as taking away a sick baby's pacifier, but the boys treated it serenely and with utmost seriousness. Once Alan had hold of John, he calmed and fell back, opening his bloodshot eyes to look at John.

"Alan?" John softly called. Alan hadn't looked at anybody with such recognition in over forty-eight hours.

Alan's lips moved, but no words came out. Virgil was immediately there with water and they helped Alan drink. Alan finally spoke, clenching John's arm even tighter. "Wh...what's happ...happening?" the boy whimpered.

"It's ok, Alan. Just relax. We've got you," John gently reassured.

"Alan, how are you feeling?" asked Virgil, putting a hand on Alan's stomach.

Alan's eyes darted around, taking in his surroundings. "I fell," he murmured. "I fell on the floor and Dad...where's Dad?"

The brothers exchanged a worried glance and at Scott's nod Gordon left to find Jeff. John turned back to Alan, but before he could speak, Alan started to cry. "I'm sorry. What's happening to me? I can't...can't control...don't want to..."

Scott held his brother's cheek. "Hush, we know. We're going to help you, I promise," he said. He stroked Alan's eyes closed with a whispered, "Just sleep, we're staying with you."

"Alan, don't sleep just yet," said a barely recognisable voice. All heads turned to see Jeff approaching them. With him were Gordon and Steve Crain. The relief in the room was audible as the psychiatrist and family friend gave them all a familiar, reassuring smile.

Jeff bent over Alan, his shock at his son's obvious awareness evident for only a few seconds. Gently he stroked Alan's hair. "Steve's here, Alan. Do you remember?"

Alan nodded, looking scared. "Dad...I don't want to...please help...what am I..."

"Shhhh, son. I won't leave you. Everything is going to be ok," Jeff told him.

Steve slowly approached the bed. "Hello Alan, do you remember me?" he asked in a warm, friendly voice.

"Yes," replied Alan, warily.

"Don't be nervous Alan, I'm here to help you and your family get through this," Steve said.

"I kn...know," said Alan. "It's just I...I get sca...I don't mean to be rude...I'm just..."

Unlike the others, Steve didn't cut Alan off; instead he waited for Alan to finish what he was trying to say.

"I can't...after what's happened...it's hard for me to...meet...or talk to..."

Steve didn't move to touch Alan, but after it became obvious Alan couldn't even complete a sentence, he spoke to Alan in a slow, firm but caring voice. "Alan. I want you to take a deep breath and let it out. Then I want to try speaking again."

Alan seemed nervous at first, but he obeyed. He looked at Steve and said, "I'm sorry if I get nervous or I seem rude. After everything, meeting unfamiliar people throws me off."

The others were stunned at Alan's words. It was the first coherency they'd had from him in two days. Steve however, didn't share their surprise. Instead he continued to speak to Alan gently and encouragingly. "You don't have to be sorry. I can't say I know what it is like to be going through what you're going through, but I do know that if you let me help you, we can all get through this. Will you let me help?"

Alan nodded firmly. "This is...um...I haven't..."

"Deep breath, Alan," Steve interjected.

Alan obeyed again. "I don't really know what's been happening. I remember falling down in the hall and...I thought I was having a nightmare or something. Then I woke up in here. What happened?"

Steve indicated to Jeff to speak. Jeff swallowed. "You screamed and collapsed in the hall. We were hoping you could tell us what was wrong, but you couldn't speak to us. You've been very upset and...unstable over the past couple of days. We were really worried," Jeff said, unevenly.

"Alan, do you remember anything before you collapsed?" asked Steve.

Alan's brow creased and he looked down. After a few minutes, he murmured, "I was with Fermat. He was showing me...something...then I heard a sound like a...a gun and..." Alan's eyes filled with tears. "I lost it. I'm so sorry," he sobbed.

"It's alright Alan. What you're going through is completely natural. It's not your fault," Steve said soothingly. "I want you to take some deep breaths and then I want you to get some sleep. Can you do that for me?"

Alan sniffed. "You don't have to stay," he said, though it was clear he didn't want to be alone. "Go and...don't suffer just because I'm too scared to be alone."

"Alan, you're not going to be alone," said Steve. "One of your brothers will stay with you, the rest will get some sleep and I'll have a chat with your Dad, will that be ok?"

Alan nodded, still looking scared but relieved.

"I'll stay with you," John told his brother.

"Thank you John," said Steve. "The rest of you will get some sleep, shower and eat."

The boys looked reluctant, but obeyed. Steve gave Alan a warm smile before leaving with Jeff. Alan eyed John warily and John smiled in reassurance. "Get some sleep. I'm not going anywhere."

Alan nodded and closed his eyes. It was only when he was sure Alan was asleep that John let his tears fall.

**Hey guys! Sorry about the time it took to update. New computer, new software that this site didn't agree with!**

**Quite a slow chapter, I'll admit, but I wanted to tread carefully when introducing Steve. I'm not a psychologist myself so it's rather slow going where Steve is concerned. Thank you all so much for your reviews! ****I'm so lucky to have such wonderful people supporting me! The next and FINAL chapter will be posted in a week, and you'll see more John/Alan interaction which should be good fun to write! **

**Boann**


	9. of men and Thunderbirds

And so, once again, they started from the beginning.

Steve kept Alan's environment very controlled. He insisted that until he gained an exceptional understanding of where Alan and his family were mentally, that their day to day activities be controlled. Of course this was extremely difficult when it came to rescues, but socially things became steady.

Steve spent hours in the infirmary alone with Alan, talking to him. Jeff found it excruciating not being able to sit in with Steve's sessions and was often caught by the psychiatrist pacing outside the door. Steve also spent time with the rest of the island's inhabitants. It wasn't unusual for one member of the household to disappear suddenly for an hour, and although Jeff found it frustrating that he could be at the helm in this situation, he felt reassured that someone was taking control. At first Jeff's impatience and worry caused him to pace around a room or meander aimlessly around the house. But soon Jeff realised that his time could be spent working, or unwinding and dwelling on his own private thoughts. It soon occurred to him that this was Steve's intention. By taking Alan out of everyone else's hands, it was obviously his hope that each house member would take the time to collect their thoughts and relax. And, as he had done for many years, Jeff praised and admired his friend.

Slowly, very slowly, over the next couple of weeks, things changed for the better. Gordon no longer swam for hours at a time. John no longer disappeared to his room. Scott no longer ran to the point of collapse and Virgil's harsh, feverish piano playing was replaced by a gentler tune. The brothers' concern for the brother was kept at bay by Steve, who allowed each of them to visit Alan for a set amount of time, at the same time every day.

John was both relieved and surprised to see a change in Alan. It seemed that a strict routine had brought stability back into his younger brother's life and because of that, Alan was growing in confidence. Although, normally, John didn't spend much time with Alan, being up in Thunderbird 5, he knew him well enough to be petrified at the thought of Alan without his confidence. The youngest member of the Tracy family had always been eager, active and always had something to say. To have watched that Alan shrink into a quiet, nervous and unstable state of mind had been terrifying, even for John. It made him, for the first time, feel regretfully about his work.

A small knock at his bedroom door pulled him out of his stupor.

"Come in," he called.

Steve entered with a warm smile; it was time to talk once again. "Hello John, how are you today?" he asked.

"Why do I feel like a mental patient in a room with soft white walls whenever you ask me that?" John joked.

Steve only indicated that they move out onto the balcony, where they sat on a bench up against the railings. "You know I don't intentionally mean to make you feel that way. I guess I've just been in this job too long," he smiled.

"I know," mused John, looking out to the ocean. "The sea is very calm today," he said. "Tranquil."

Steve followed his gaze and nodded. "Yes, it is."

"I've missed the sea. Just looking at it, you know? I don't get to very often and..." John realised he was rambling. "Ah, well. Here I am going on about waves and water and you wanted to talk."

Steve gave a small smile. "What we talk about is up to you, John."

John looked down. "I miss out on a lot of things up in space. Just little things, silly things. But I never had any regrets, until now. I guess I've realised...I could've lost my little brother, physically or mentally, it wouldn't have mattered, and now I'm asking myself; what have I missed out on? What will I miss out on in the future because of my work? Moments with Alan that I could never have again? What will I have to sacrifice?" he asked.

Steve was silent for a few moments. "This business, this mission of your father's, is and always will be hard on you all. Even saving lives costs something John. It's cruel and despicable but it's the way things are. What you have to decide is how far you are willing to go? What can you do and what will you do? They are two very different questions, John, and only you can answer them. I'm seeing a great deal of doubt in this family, despite recent improvements and it is only natural. But remember, while you sit dwelling on these feelings, you could be missing so much more."

"I guess I'm scared," John admitted. "God I never thought I'd be able to admit it, but...this family has suffered so much and I don't know how much we, or I, can take."

"John, what are you doing?"

The question caught John off guard. "Excuse me?"

"What are you doing, John?" Steve asked again.

John was confused. "I'm...sitting here...talking."

"What are you _doing_, John?"

John couldn't understand. What am I doing? "I'm doing nothing," he finally replied as realisation dawned on him. He gave a small laugh in disbelief.

"And what could you be missing, John?" Steve asked, warmly. "You are divided about your role on International Rescue, but rather than doing nothing and expecting mental strain to solve your problems, you should try and let your mind decide for itself, are you following me?"

"You're right, this isn't getting me anywhere," said John. "But do you think the answer will come to me? Isn't that procrastination?"

Steve inclined his head. "Maybe. Or maybe all you need is a little time to find out what you want. Torturing yourself for hours won't get you answers."

John nodded. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Just after three in the afternoon."

"Can I go and see Alan?"

Steve smiled.

TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB

Alan gazed up at the ceiling, lost in thought. He was pondering Steve's wise words from their session earlier that day.

"_Steve, you've been great, an I'm...I'm feeling so...so much stronger," said Alan, as Steve helped him into an armchair by the window. "But there's one thing I can't seem to get rid of. When you're gone, will I still...I mean...how can I be sure that I can do it? Be able to walk down the street without looking over my shoulder; be able to go to school; return to normality?"_

_Steve put a hand on his shoulder, a touch that Alan would not have tolerated three weeks ago. It was a comforting reminder of the progress he'd made. "Take things one step at a time, Alan. Don't shy away from the challenges ahead, but don't expect too much of yourself either." _

Alan was still scared; he had every right to be. He tried not to dwell on the thoughts. He was blessed with a distraction.

"Hey, sprout."

"John?"

His older brother approached him warily. "I didn't scare you did I?"

Alan smiled. "You? No way? You suck at sneaking up on people, just ask Gordon."

John flashed a smile. "I think I receive enough reminders from him as it is."

John pulled up a chair opposite him and looked him up and down, a habitual act that Alan had gotten used to expecting. "How are you today?"

Alan squinted. "Okay. I'm seeing white walls, a nurse with a clipboard..."

John laughed. "Okay, my bad. Seriously though?"

Alan nodded. "Bit better. I'm out of bed for the third time in a week!" he smiled.

"I noticed," nodded John.

Alan noticed his brother's silence. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, sprout, just had a lot of things on my mind," his brother replied, unconsciously imitating their father by rubbing a hand over his forehead and pinching the bridge of his nose.

Alan looked down uncomfortably. "Haven't we been through this a thousand times already?" he asked. "You don't have to restrict yourself to only talking to Steve. He wants us to talk to each other more, that means me too."

John gave him a look of compassion mixed with apprehension, before yielding. "Oh, I've just been thinking, you know? How much I've missed out on whilst up in '5, what I _have _missed, what I _will _miss etcetera. For the first time I'm considering not returning to the space station."

Alan frowned, confused. "Why?"

John sighed. "Alan...I realised that I could have lost you, and I guess I started to feel guilty about not spending more time with you. You're growing into a man and I'm missing that."

"Don't be stupid," smiled Alan. "You've always been there for me. You're always there to talk or help me with anything, even when we're millions of miles apart. I know I can always count on you."

"Can you?" asked John. "I could never offer you something as simple as a hug or a watch a movie with you, those things you can't replace."

Alan nodded his agreement. "No, but it doesn't mean we don't love each other just as much as any other brother would. Besides," he smiled. "Id much rather a hug from Scott, he's not so bony!" he said, poking John in the chest.

"Hey! Knock it off squirt!" laughed John, pulling away.

But Alan was pleased to see him smile. Without prompting he reached forward and hugged his older brother, which John immediately returned.

"Alan? John?"

Both brothers looked to the door to see their father approaching. As soon as Jeff saw that Alan already has a visitor, he turned to leave.

Alan was surprised when John called out. "Dad, wait! You stay, I'll go."

"Are you sure?" asked Jeff, moving forward again.

John stood up, nodding and moving to leave.

Alan finally found his voice. "You know... you can both stay."

John waved a hand to turn down the offer. "Thanks sprout, but I've got some stuff I need to sort out, ready for when I go back on duty."

Elated at those last words, Alan grinned as John winked at him and left.

Jeff took John's chair. "Steve tells me you want to leave the infirmary. Are you sure you're ready?" he asked.

Alan took a deep breath and nodded. "I can't stay here forever. Besides, the physical symptoms haven't come back in a while and Steve thinks I'm doing well."

Jeff nodded, his eyes twinkling. "I'm so proud of you," he murmured. "I never say that enough do I?"

Alan gave a bashful smile before returning to a sombre expression. "Dad...I have something I need to ask you," he said.

Jeff's expression turned serious too. "Sure Alan, what is it?" he asked, leaning forward in his chair.

"Any chance I can fly Thunderbird 1 next rescue?" asked Alan, cracking a small smile.

He was rewarded by his father's deep, strong laugh. "Okay, kiddo, don't get too cocky," he laughed.

"Seriously Dad," Alan said. "What if I can't do this? What if I can't get my head straight and come crying back to this God forsaken room because I'm too scared to even talk to people?"

Jeff rubbed his arm. "Hey, you just take things one step at a time, okay? If something happens, we'll help you. Besides, inner strength seems to run in the family. I have no doubt that you'll recover."

"More stubbornness than inner strength," Alan pointed out.

"Well, that helps too," smiled Jeff. "Just remember, we're all here for you and we're all here for each other. Things will get better, all we need is time."

Alan looked his father in the eye. "Are you sure? How can I know that I'll be strong enough? I'm still afraid."

"Alan, let me tell you something that a very wise person once told me: Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something is more important than fear."

"Wow," murmured Alan, taking the words in. "Who said that?"

Jeff held his hand and looked at him lovingly. "Your mother."

**Well, it has taken longer than first planned, but the Abduction/Aftermath story is finally complete. I hope that you have all enjoyed this story, and once again I thank everyone who reviewed, or even just took time to read my work. I'm looking forward to developing new ideas and sharing them with you all. See you again soon!**

**Boann**


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